stinkbug

she said it would always need to be a secret if the knowledge were bestowed upon me. being a demi-god, however, she knew exactly what i would do. with each blink, she analyzed algorithms of every movement of all of the strands of my straw-like hair. she foresaw. still, she let me play the game.

she said it would always need to be a secret if the knowledge were bestowed upon me.

“why?”

anyone would want to know. it was simple enough of a question, but i knew she would never answer. her smirk evolved into one of those deja vus which lasts entirely too long until you cannot tell wake from dreaming. i had seen the exact moment time and time again and i was sure of it, but of course i could not figure how or why. this moment had been forever coming…perhaps repeating…and yet it was unrecognizable.

though vague, i saw through the illusion, for mere milliseconds.

those people that brag and boast, “i know something, but i cannot tell you.”
clear as glass, you probably saw through their illusions? did you not?
and have you never mourned the loss of the delusion of “humanity” in the night time?
did you cringe and perhaps pull the blankets a little tighter around your shoulders?

little black bugs, bed bugs, and slugs don’t have a reason to mourn.

i suppose neither do we since we prefer counting sheep to being in sects.

i'd be thrilled to hear your true, uncensored thoughts. i'd also love to read your writing.